The Elves of Cintra (Book 2 of The Genesis of Shannara)

THEY TOOK just long enough to snatch up weapons, rough-weather gear, blankets, and food for two days, and went out the door. In the distance, the forest was filled with the sounds of voices and movement.

Arborlon was beginning to come awake, alerted to the fact that something was amiss, lights winking in homes, Elves stepping outside to see what was happening, a low buzz building. They had to assume that Elven Hunters would be searching for them by now, casting a wide net through the city in an effort to discover where they were hiding or in what direction they had chosen to escape.

Kirisin knew from listening to his sister that their efforts would not be apparent, that they would rely on stealth and surprise. Some of them would be acquaintances of long standing. Some of them would be his friends. Most wouldn’t know yet why they were looking for him, but once they did their efforts would intensify. It wouldn’t be personal, but they were soldiers and knew better than to do anything but what they were told. For a soldier, orders took precedence over everything.

He reached down into his pocket and touched the small bulk of the pouch and its Elfstones. He was still finding it hard to believe how badly things had turned out. All their efforts had been directed toward finding and securing the Stones, and he had assumed that once that was achieved the worst of it was over. All that remained was to make use of the talismans and begin the search for the Loden. Halfway there, he had thought.

Now he understood for the first time how difficult the rest would be. It wasn’t going to be a simple matter of asking for the support of the King and the High Council in their efforts to continue the search. There wasn’t going to be any such support; rather, King and Council were going to do their level best to hunt them down if they ran, which they almost certainly were going to have to do. Running would make them look guilty. But staying behind would put an end to any effort to help the Ellcrys. Whichever way they turned, whatever choice they made, they would be on their own.

And he would not know for a long time to come—if ever—if the risk required was worth the taking.

Simralin, in the lead, glanced over her shoulder at him, perhaps to make certain that he was keeping up. He nodded for her to go on, keeping his thoughts to himself. There was no reason to say anything. She would be thinking the same thing he was. Given her training, she was probably already several steps ahead of him.

They skirted the city along its smaller trails, listening for sounds of pursuit, always moving away from activity that might signal danger. Now and again, Simralin took them off the main pathway into the trees or brush. Once she had them crouch down and wait. Each time, he searched for a reason and found none. But he knew better than to question her. She was far and away the best Tracker among the Cintra Elves, a rare combination of experience and instincts, of quick thinking and steady nerves. Everyone said she was the best. It had always made Kirisin proud. Tonight it made him grateful, as well.

On the trail behind him, Angel Perez was a silent presence.

He glanced back at her once or twice, but she barely looked at him, her gaze directed at the surrounding trees. She had a Tracker’s look about her, her concentration intense and her focus complete, as if she was able to see and hear much more than he could. Like Simralin. He studied Angel a moment. How much older than he was she? A few years, perhaps, no more. But so much more confident, so much more poised. He found himself wanting to know more about her. She was a Knight of the Word, but what did that mean? What had she endured to achieve that title? How much had she survived? They reached a small cluster of homes at the northern edge of the city, distant from its teeming center but not so far from the Home Guard and Elven Hunter compounds above the Belloruus home. It seemed dangerously close to exactly where they shouldn’t be. But Simralin moved ahead to a tight clump of cedar thick with brush and grasses, and motioned for them to hunker down within its cover.

Then she gave a sharp, quick birdcall, waited a moment, and repeated the call. A few minutes passed; then a door to one of the cottages opened and a dark figure emerged, stepping cautiously through the shadows, searching.

“Wait here,” Simralin whispered.

She stepped out of the brush and walked into the pale wash of starlight. The dark figure came toward her at once, big and strong looking, a man. He reached for Simralin in familiar fashion, but she held him away from her, saying something that caused him to look toward the place where Kirisin and Angel were hiding. The light caught his face, revealing his features.

“Who is it?” Angel whispered in Kirisin’s ear.

“Tragen,” he said.

“There seems to be something between them.”

There does indeed, Kirisin thought, and he wondered why he hadn’t known.